The Words
by Rasiaa
Summary: Because it can't be easy. The words can't be said on sight, or at a first conversation. No, of course not, because life screws everyone over and decided that it'd be a grand idea to have the words be said at random, by someone you've known a long time. Soulmates have to build a bond like anyone else. Neither of them had predicted that outcome.


_For 0nce Upon My Story, monthly exchange: Harry/Ginny, romance, soulmate au,_ _"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it."_

_Slightly different take on soulmates; hope you enjoy. Now, I've got to be up for work in like five hours. Inspiration is wonderful but sometimes is very inconvenient. _

* * *

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it."

The thing is, she has no idea who will say the words.

Life has a funny way of dealing with things. Ginny has wished more than once that she knew the pattern so she could navigate it better, know the answers to questions that haunt her at night, predict where her next turn would be and how that'll turn out.

As it stands, though, she pulls her thigh-highs up and slips on her shoes and checks the mirror one last time. She reaches for a bobby pin and as she shoves it into her ponytail, the bright emerald green words catch her attention.

She can't remember when they appeared, but she knows they weren't always there from her mother's pictures. They seem pretty useless, honestly, but most people think they're romantic. "How lovely, that someone will fight a war for you," Luna had told her once, after Ginny told her what they were.

Romantic. What rubbish.

She pulls gloves out of her box of miscellaneous things and uses them to conceal the tattoo. She doesn't want to think of some fancy fairy tale ending on her one night off.

She doesn't need a knight in shining armor.

...

It was Luna's choice.

Hermione, Neville, Harry, and Ginny's older brother Ron are already there. The group stands under a collection of soft lights. A violin is playing somewhere, but she honestly can't be bothered to look. Ron glances over as she walks up, and he smiles slightly. "Hey, Ginny," he says, and the rest quiet to greet her.

"You made it," Hermione says, sounding surprised. "I thought for sure you'd be late, at least."

"I might be bad at directions, but I can follow Google," Ginny says, stopping next to Harry, who chuckles.

"You're more talented than I am, then," he says. Ginny looks up at him and he smiles. "Glad you made it, Gin."

He's the only one who calls her that. She'll never let on that she never wants anyone else to have that privilege. She never wants him to call her anything else for the rest of their lives.

"Yeah," she answers. "Me too, honestly. Would hate to miss it."

The road they're standing on is an old one, one that leads to an old castle that is rumored to house a whole household of ghosts. Once a year on Halloween a set of twelve carriages takes a few lucky people to see it. Luna has always wanted to go - go figure that she's the last to arrive, then - so she bought tickets for all of them as a surprise. Harry had protested vehemently when she presented them, insisting that he pay her back for all of them. The wealthiest of the group, he knows that such an expense is the difference of eating or not for the rest of them, while spending a few thousand on each ticket isn't even something he'd register. Luna had allowed it only because he promised she could pay him back over time.

Pride is such an awful sin.

Hermione checks her phone for the time. "Good grief, she'll miss it if she's much later."

"You know how she is," Neville says. "Just like her father - can't keep a schedule or anything organized for the life of her."

Hermione rolls her eyes at this. "She's twenty-five now. Can't she keep an alarm, at the very least?"

At this, Neville shrugs helplessly. "Don't ask me. I don't pretend to know how her mind works, and I dated her for three years."

And then Luna met Rolf Scamander and it kind of went downhill from there, Ginny remembers. It was a bit nasty, but it's impossible to stay mad at Luna and Neville has always been too forgiving. There's a lot of betting in the neighborhood that Rolf will say Luna's words when the time is right.

Because it can't be easy. The words can't be said on sight, or at a first conversation. No, of course not, because life fucks everyone over and decided that it'd be a grand idea to have the words be said at random, by someone you've known a long time. Soulmates have to build a bond like anyone else. And it's not like anyone can see the words on someone's skin and manipulate conversations, either. The words are blurred to everyone else, looking like a splatter of random lines until the bond is solidified.

People can hope for years for their soulmate to be their lover, and then have it turn out to be their barista or their mailman or their best friend who they swore they'd never fall for.

Like Ron and Hermione, for instance. They met at eleven and said each other's words at seventeen, and Harry had laughed for twenty minutes because the magical exchange turned out to be:

_"For god's sake, don't even try to explain it to me, we both know I wouldn't understand it anyway."_

_"And for once you might be right."_

Neither of them had predicted that outcome.

"Finally!"

Ginny glances up and then regrets it because she looks directly into headlights. "Good god," she mutters. Harry helpfully holds his hand in front of her eyes. She laughs because it's such a stupid thing to do.

Luna steps out of the passenger side of the car, looking like the Queen's garden with the collection of colorful flowers on her dress, the tips of her shoes, her headband, and the necklace and earring combo. It's so classically Luna that Ginny can't help but smile.

Her ride drives off, and Ginny recognizes Rolf in through the window just before he rounds a corner.

"Hello," Luna says, looking around. "Are the carriages here?"

"No," Ron says quickly. Hermione looks like she's in a mood to respond with sarcasm, and her brand of sarcasm tends to be fatal. Ginny's glad that Ron has become adept at gleaning that and responding accordingly because Hermione can be downright cruel sometimes. Luna's a bit too delicate to handle it.

"Actually, yes," Harry corrects, and everyone turns to look down the road, where sure enough horses appear over the hill.

The rest of the people who paid for this trip shuffle together, making a large cluster of people who buzz with excited energy and therefore make Hermione sigh in irritation.

Ginny eyes her sidelong but ultimately decides to ignore it.

The carriages come to a stop. The drivers hop down and start directing the crowd to their appropriate carriage; the number is written on their ticket, which the drivers check as they go along. Ginny hands hers to the man when he reaches them, and he directs her to carriage five.

Harry helps Ginny into the carriage and climbs in after her. It's a tight fit with all six of them in there, but then Ron just sighs and pulls Hermione onto his lap. She lets out a noise of surprise but doesn't protest, much to Ginny's shock. It makes breathing a little easier so no one mentions it.

Luna keeps up chatter with Neville and Ron all the way up to the castle. Hermione spends the two hour trip with her phone up to her face, which remains flushed with embarrassment the whole way. Harry stares out the window and Ginny takes the opportunity to stare at Harry.

It's not often that she gets to, after all. He's more Ron's friend than hers, but Luna is Hermione's close friend and Ginny's as well, so they wind up coming together through mutual acquaintance. Ginny wished for a long time that he'd ask her out, but it's been over fifteen years and no luck. She's dated in the past but it never worked out, and unlike Luna, she doesn't keep up with her past boyfriends.

When they finally come to a stop, it's sunset. Pink highlights the sky and halos the castle. Ginny's breath catches in her throat.

"Fucking gorgeous," Ron says, coming to stand next to her. "Can you believe that it's haunted?"

"Oh, totally," Ginny says. "It's, like, a thousand years old."

Ron sends her a withering glare. A lifetime of receiving that look has made her completely immune. She smirks back.

"This way!" a guide shouts. The crowd follows quietly, not even footsteps audible as they approach the castle grounds.

The group splits into three, since apparently each guide knows different things and can only speak to so many people at once. They promise that everyone will see everything, but they want it to be "a more personal experience."

"Whatever," Harry mumbles, and Ginny smothers a laugh. He echoed her thoughts.

They see the grounds first. Lots of trees, and the guide mentions that one in particular is seemingly possessed by an angry spirit that was hanged from its branches. It swings around even without wind so Ginny believes it completely.

"We call it the Whomping Willow since it likes to beat people," their guide says.

"What the fuck," Ron says flatly. A woman in front of him looks at him accusingly, but he ignores it.

According to the guide, the lake they see is littered with mystical creatures including mermaids and a giant squid. A squid Ginny could believe simply because people like to move animals wherever they please, but mermaids is a bit of a stretch.

The forest on the end of the grounds is haunted by giant spiders. Given the trail of them the guide points out, Ginny is inclined to believe this as well. Ron certainly does. He turns around and Hermione grabs his arm before he can leave. "Love, they're spiders," he pleads.

"I know. They won't hurt you," she says, no sympathy to be found.

"It couldn't be anything else? Why not butterflies?"

"Butterflies?" Harry echoes. "You've got to be kidding. Don't be stupid, Ron."

Ron glares at him, but the guide clears her throat before he can say anything. They move on.

There's a rundown old hut and a set of five greenhouses, all overcome with vines and ivy from many decades without upkeep. They're cool to look at, but ultimately uninteresting.

They make it to the castle doors and switch to the next guide.

This is where the cool stuff is.

Thousands of pictures hang from every spare bit of space on the walls. They portray a variety of people, from kings to servants, and the guide points out the important ones, like the man wrapped in gold and red with a lion for a crest on his cloak. He was a famous warrior who helped fund the construction of the castle along with three others.

Ginny will swear on anything that one of the pictures turned to look at her as they moved on.

The staircases make her nervous for reasons she can't explain. She feels like they'll move on her at any moment, but they don't. Still, she clings to the railings and the walls when they're available.

Harry walks beside her the whole time. "Did you see the fat lady in pink? I swear, it's crazy that people used to dress like that. What in the world possessed designers to think the frills were a good idea?"

"Who knows? Maybe they were drunk," Ginny suggests. "Or maybe the mercury in the hats got to them."

"Yeah, probably both at the same time," he says, and Ginny snickers.

"And here - this is the banquet hall, but these days we call it the ghost hall," the guide announces, and pulls at two frankly enormous doors. Ginny's shocked the man can open them alone.

Then her shock is redirected.

Colorful banners hang from the ceilings - they're seriously in need of repairs, with most of them having been the victims of moths, but still, they're stunning works of embroidery and sewing. The ceiling itself is painted like the night sky to a striking likeness. She can pick out individual stars the same way she can if she's looking at the real thing.

The guide is talking about the tables - like she cares, truly - when she's hit by a burst of cold. She gasps and shivers, attracting attention. The guide smiles. "Oh, there they are."

"What?" Hermione says.

"Oh, just me."

They all whip around, and Ginny's mouth drops open. A young jester is standing before her, transparent and laughing. He waves and vanishes.

"So it is true," Neville breathes in awe.

"Yes," the guide says. "The most famous of the ghosts we call Nearly Headless Nick, who died fighting in a noble battle for his soulmate -"

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it."

Ginny hears them as if underwater. She turns and finds Harry leaning close. He opens his mouth to continue, but she cuts him off. "What war is that, then?"

He freezes.

The amber words on his collarbone shift into a legible English sentence - the one she just uttered, and Ginny knows the words on the back of her left hand will have done the same. Still, she takes her glove off to make sure. Harry stares at her like he's never seen her before.

Life continues. No one notices. It's not like a light went off or anything; there was no noise beyond their quiet whispers. Ginny's whole life has just changed and the guide has moved on to some old baron who fancied himself a better fighter than he was and got killed as a result.

Ginny swallows and does what she does best when she's nervous: she ignores it. "Seriously. What war are you talking about? What brought that on at all, actually? What -"

"Gin," he interrupts. Ginny snaps her mouth shut. "I mean. I was talking about the headless fellow - he met his soulmate in some raid on a town, did you hear? I was making fun - I mean -"

"So would you?" she asks. "Would it be?"

Harry hesitates. Ginny waits, heart hammering. "What?" he asks.

"Would you fight a war for me, and would it be worth it?" she clarifies, Luna's words echoing. She's never put stock into them, because she never wanted to think she'd be dependent. She always figured that the words would have been said to her while in a war environment, scary as it was to think about.

"Of course," Harry says, sounding incredulous. "Of course I would. It'd absolutely be worth every second."

"Harry," she says, a bit helplessly, because what can she say? Her wildest daydreams had included this man saying something like this, but she'd never allowed herself to think on it for long. It's been so long and he never said anything so she'd given up hope - or, she thought she had. Seems she was wrong.

He smiles, slightly, a bit hopeful and a bit lost and a bit confused.

The group has left them behind at this point, and Ginny knows she'll be hopelessly lost when it comes time for her to give a damn.

Right now?

She leans up and kisses him with all she has. The best part is when he pulls her close and tilts his head and kisses her back like she's the water he's been chasing during a drought.

"Good god," she breathes when they part, then leans back in and winds her arms around his neck, and her tattoo burns.


End file.
